The curse of Marlinspike Hall
by Unicorn1980
Summary: What if the residents of Marlinspike Hall were under a monstrous curse? Warning: AU, monsters, mild slash.


"What an afternoon for a funeral, All Hallows Eve," Cuthbert Calculus remarked sombrely as he looked up at the rising moon. Dusk had fallen swiftly upon their party as they stood around the gaping hole in the ground, watching the coffin as it was lowered down through an eddy of coppery leaves. Someone lit a lantern while the priest spoke the final passage of the service, but the warm glow offered little comfort as the evening drew in upon the churchyard.

Captain Haddock shivered in his suit jacket. The country parish was weathered and cold, just like his home half a mile outside the rural village. In the distance he could hear the wind moving through the trees. A lulling rustle like the whispers of ghosts. And then the rain began. A host of washed-out umbrellas popped open around the grave. Haddock's butler opened a black umbrella and they took shelter side by side.

"Thank you, Nestor," Haddock murmured.

The butler offered a rueful expression, too sad to be a smile, but an attempt at comfort none the less. These words of gratitude were the first Haddock had spoken since Tintin's death three days ago.

Only a small number of mourners had gathered to pay to their respects. Tintin had met many people around the world during his travels - interesting, perhaps even _incredible _people - but he'd counted only a handful as true friends. The Thompsons were here, and local acquaintances such as Jolyon Wagg and Mrs Finch. Bianca Castafiore had hastened to Marlinspike when she heard the news of Tintin's accident, bringing her maid Irma with her. Other friends like Piotr Skut and General Alcazar had dropped everything to fly over. As had Chang. The young Chinese boy stood beneath a black parasol, clutching a red rose, his shimmering brown eyes firmly fixed on the coffin. Haddock followed his gaze and swallowed painfully.

Stepping forward, Chang dropped the rose into the grave. "Goodbye, dear Tintin."

Haddock felt tears pricking his eyes.

_This is not goodbye, he thought bitterly. It cannot possibly be goodbye._

His hands began to tremble, the need for a drink suddenly too strong to bear.

"Come on, Captain," Calculus said gently, recognising his distress and getting it right for once. "It's time to go now."

Reluctantly, he nodded and allowed Nestor and the professor to guide him between headstones and along a path overgrown with ivy and dogweed. The others followed.

When they reached the car, Chang spoke to them from behind. They turned to find him wringing a silk handkerchief in his hands.

"Captain Haddock, Professor Calculus. I'm so sorry for your loss. Tintin was a good friend of yours."

For a moment, Haddock felt a crack threatening to split him open wide. Memories of good times seeped through. Then it was gone and he smiled tightly. "The finest friend I ever had."

"He was a very special person." Chang kept his eyes on the ground, then glanced up at the sky, dark and wet. "I fear there is a storm coming."

"Would you like to ride with us?" Calculus offered. "I fear there is a storm coming."

Haddock bristled and fell silent. He dreaded what he might say if he allowed himself to speak, afraid of the intensity and unpredictability of his own emotions. Jealousy was just one of many irrational, unwanted thoughts shaking the walls of his sanity right now. The boy reporter had been his confidant, along with Nestor and the professor. They were the only ones who knew about his secret, and the curse of Marlinspike Hall. But Tintin had helped him cope more than anyone else. He had saved him from himself and shown him a light in the darkness. And Haddock had never had the chance to tell him how he felt or even thank him. How would he survive now?

Haddock got into the car and waited for Calculus to join him, followed by Chang. Nestor drove them home.

They travelled to Marlinspike Hall in silence. Outside, the sky had grown impossibly black, punctuated only by the bright orb of a full October moon. Even though Calculus had injected him with a suppressant that morning, the sight of the seductive white sphere made Haddock's pulse elevate, thudding in ears. His muscles tightened, burned, pulled towards the glow of the moon.

Thump, thump, thump, raced his heart, pumping blood around his head. His instincts began to sharpen like that of an animal. Smell, touch, hearing. He was certain his eyes must be shining. The swell of a growl began to build in his chest and he quickly tore his gaze from the night sky.

He trained his eyes on his lap instead, listening to the calming torrents on the car windows, but he could feel Chang watching him and he could stand it no longer. As the car rumbled along the country road, steadily rocking its passengers, Haddock turned his dark eyes to meet Chang's red-rimmed gaze.

In that moment, he knew that Chang was undeserving of his jealousy. They had both cared about the same boy. And they had both lost him. Perhaps he could learn to let go of his animosity.

"You stare at the moon," Chang remarked.

"I like it," he barked gruffly, instantly regretting the words and their ferocity. The moon was beautiful, all right, but not as beautiful as his Tintin had been.

Professor Calculus gasped suddenly and clutched his chest.

Haddock turned to him, alarmed. "Cuthbert? Are you… are you unwell?"

Calculus removed his hat and dabbed his face with a handkerchief. Sweat was dripping down his temples. He chuckled self consciously. "Good heavens, it's warm this evening. A glass of water, that's what I need."

Barnacles, Haddock thought. Calculus had a curse of his own to worry about, but he would be fine once they got back home.

Marlinspike Hall loomed ahead, an imposing blot against the stormy sky. When they arrived, Haddock didn't wait for Nestor to open the car door. He got out and abandoned Calculus with Chang, striding away from the house.

"Captain?" Calculus called in confusion as the former navy man headed down a narrow trail into the wood.

"Master Haddock?!" Nestor shouted.

"Is he all right?" asked Chang. "Should someone go after him?"

Nestor took a step towards the trail, but Calculus put out a hand. "No, no, Nestor. Let him go. He'll be quite all right. Take Chang inside, and then come to my laboratory, please. I may need your assistance."

"Very well, sir."

The high pitched scream of a bat sounded over their heads and Chang looked up, watching the winged creature swoop and circle around the pitched gables of the roof. It flew out of sight through a gap in the broken attic window.

Chang shuddered. "This place, it is haunted. I can feel it."

Calculus wiped more sweat from his brow and left Nestor to show the boy into the house for the wake. His laboratory was in a separate building, behind Marlinspike Hall, and when he reached the front door, he rushed inside and slammed it shut.

His body was fighting the change, but it wouldn't be long before he lost control all together. He staggered into the lab, clutching worktops, walls, anything he could use for support as he sought his work table.

"Oh! Heavens! Nnngg! Arrrrggh!" He crashed into the chemistry appartaus on the table, sending beakers and tripods crashing to the floor. Glass smashed around his feet and he rolled onto his back, gasping for air and squeezing his eyes shut against the painful spasms his muscles.

"No, not now, not now."

His fingers cramped up and he looked at his hands. The veins protruded, thick and blue. Every muscle and bone in his body was being stretched as his anatomy tried to build upon itself. His biceps and calves burned, doubling in size and ripping the seams of his clothing.

In the reflective metal of a nearby contraption, Calculus caught sight of himself. His eyebrows were growing bushier, his eyes blacker. His mind would be the last thing to go. He'd black out soon and wake the next morning with no memory of the scandalous acts his alter ego had committed. The men he had attacked, the women he had ravished. Nobody at Marlinspike Hall would be safe. Such was the curse of being descended from the brilliant, tragic Doctor Jekyll.

But he was still in control of his senses and he feared for the women attending the wake. Signora Castafiore. Such a precious, fragile rose. He'd be damned before he let the monstrous Mr Hyde take over.

"Professor!" Nestor arrived just in time and searched the scientist's desk for the antidote.

"There, Nestor, in the top drawer."

The butler retrieved one of the test tubes and pulled out the cork stopper with a resounding pop. White smoke escaped the glass phial while Nestor poured the bubbling green potion down Calculus's throat.

He swallowed frantically, only daring to relax when he felt the transformation receding. "Thank you, Nestor. I'll be all right now. You'd better get back to the other guests. I'll follow shortly."

"If you're sure , sir?"

Calculus nodded, reassuring the butler, and Nestor compliantly made his way back to the main house. At least the rain was now subsiding.

The grounds were eerie at night. Even a brave man like Nestor could not help glancing over his shoulder at the sound of an owl or the rustle of foliage. The master was out here somewhere, he reminded himself. Poor Master Haddock. He had not been himself since…

A twig snapped and he stopped to look around. Nothing. He was alone.

The Hall was within sight and he quickened his pace, passing several parked cars on the driveway. The others had arrived from the church and would require his attention. He held out hope that madam Castafiore's maid, Irma, would help with the running of the wake. It was a miserable task, preparing food and serving drinks, all in melancholy respect and farewell to a most bright and loved young man. The depression hovering over Marlinspike was palpable, like the cloying mist that crept up the gravel driveway, closing in on the estate.

Nestor hurried up the steps and back into the house, closing the door. Inside, the atmosphere was a little better. Safer. For now, at least.

Haddock couldn't face the wake. Rare tears fell slowly as he picked his way through brambles towards the field on his estate. To his relief, his friends had not pursued him.

Alone in the moonlit field, he walked, sobbing quietly until he could see the spire of the church. The steeple climbed heavenward beyond a clutch of trees. Through the thicket, ruddy churchyard lanterns shone and the remote sound of shovels could be heard. Despair wracked his body as he imagined the gravediggers covering Tintin's coffin with earth.

"Oh, Tintin. Why did you have to go and get yourself killed, lad?" he muttered. Then raw anguish stabbed his heart to pieces and he roared angrily into the sky. "Why did you have to leave me? I love you, damn you!"

He choked the words out, over and over until he sank to the wet ground, exhausted and tugging at the grass wretchedly. It was only when he pressed his forehead to the damp blades that he realised he was not alone.

Guardedly, he raised his head and was startled by the appearance of three hooded figures standing around him. They were clad in striped robes, like the woollen ponchos he had seen and worn once in Peru, and they peered down at him from behind disturbing wooden masks. Alarm shot through him, but he didn't make a move. He couldn't. An unnerving force seemed to keep him planted firmly at their feet.

Haddock blinked and tears rolled hotly down his cheeks. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded, angry that the strangers had crept up and found him so vulnerable. "This is private property. Go on, get out of here!"

The figure to the left spoke, his accent heavy and familiar. "You are in pain."

His counterpart on the right, a foreigner also, added, "Don't fear us, Señor. We help you."

The Captain shook his head. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Nobody can help me."

He was sure he knew these men, but he could not fathom what they were doing here. The smaller figure in the middle spoke up and Haddock knew the young Quechua voice. It was Zorrino, though some time had passed since he had last seen the boy. "This is special night in your country, All Hallows Eve. And the moon it shines full. Good for ritual, Señor. We help you now."

"Zorrino… What? Take off that mask, I know it's you! What are you doing here?"

Zorrino lowered the mask and produced a wax doll in Tintin's image. Haddock's tears began to flow once more, burning his cold skin.

"What's that?"

"Fetish, Captain," replied Zorrino, "effigy of our friend. Sympathetic magic."

"You do know Tintin is…?" Haddock drew a shaky breath. He couldn't say it.

"Dead, Señor? Sí, is why we come." Zorrino's eyes shimmered in the moonlight. "Tintin was good friend. Good to Zorrino. Señor Tintin not deserve to die. My people say he who command Sun must be saved."

Haddock frowned sadly. "Oh, Zorrino, lad. It's too late for that."

Zorrino's lips curved. "We bring fetish. Chiquito and Huascar High Priests. Inca magic bring Señor Tintin back, Captain."

The thought grabbed Haddock's heart and squeezed out hope. Was it possible? Doubt hung over him. Of course it was not possible. But what if Zorrino was right?

Chiquito began to light thick red candles and pushed them into the ground, forming a circle around the group.

Zorrino extended a hand to Haddock and, warily, he reached for it. He found the doll placed in his palm. Huascar bound the eerie object to the Captain's hand with red ribbon.

"If your bond strong enough, we can will him back from other side," Huascar told him. "You ready, Señor?"

Haddock remembered Tintin's face, his small nose and bright eyes, always a happy smile, so alive.

_His life should never have been cut short. He should be here._

He'd do anything to see him again. To hear his voice, to touch him.

Anything.

He stared into the black eyes of the doll and found himself nodding in compliance.

The Incas spread out around him and joined hands. A steady chorus of chanting followed - mysterious words, orbiting him and rising on the air like the voices of Aztec spirits. The doll's strands of orange wool hair thrashed in the wind and the voices elevated, calling insistently upon powers that Haddock did not understand. Dark powers. He suddenly grew afraid.

Glancing through the trees, he saw the light of quick moving lanterns. He thought he heard an urgent shout from the churchyard and fear beat its wings within his chest like a caged bat.

"What am I doing?" he breathed, a change of conscience sweeping over him. "Stop. Stop this."

Frantically, he tore the ribbon loose and threw the festish to the grass.

_Stupid. Selfish!_

His limbs at last obeyed and he got to his feet, knocking over candles as he escaped the circle.

"Too late to stop," Huascar told him.

Haddock froze and gazed at the church spire, listening to the distant sound of activity. It couldn't be true. They couldn't have brought Tintin back from death.

"Stay away from me with your hoodoo witchcraft nonsense," he warned them. "Tintin's… Tintin's dead! And you want to mess around with black magic? Can't you let the poor boy rest in peace."

Clenching his fists furiously, he marched for home.

"But, Captain," Zorrino called to his retreating form. "You broke circle. Spell not finished. Very bad, Captain. Come back."

Haddock was grateful when a clap of thunder drowned out the young man's voice. What a load of nonsense. Lightening followed and he hurried along the overgrown trail, Marlinspike Hall in sight. His home had never looked so welcoming.

Nestor circled the room, offering more drinks to the Master's friends. When he reached Irma, she smiled shyly at him.

"Can I assist?" she asked.

It was a blessed relief to have another human being to talk with freely. He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. When they were alone in the shadowy kitchen, he kept his voice low. "This house is descending into madness, Irma."

She knew precisely what he was talking about and stroked his arm sympathetically. "Still no cure?"

Nestor shook his head. "The Professor very nearly changed just now. Had I not arrived when I did… Well, the potion has returned him to normal for now, but his episodes are becoming more and more erratic. Your mistress should not be left alone with him. And as for Master Haddock. There is still no way to break his curse. The Professor created a suppressant which keeps him from turning on a full moon, but he is just not the same since Mr Tintin passed away. Irrational, angry, out of control…"

Irma's eyebrows drew together and she placed her hand against Nestor's cheek. "You do all you can. We both do all we can."

"Signora Castafiore," Nestor enquired, "is she still…?"

"Being good? Yes, as good as a vampiro can be. She hasn't murdered a human for months. Did you buy the white rabbits I mentioned in my letter? They're her favourite."

"I did."

Irma stood on her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on Nestor's lips. The butler cupped her face gently, savouring the moment. To forget everything and experience tranquil bliss was a scarce occurrence. Then the kiss was over and they resumed their duties, Irma kindly offering to prepare more snacks while Nestor returned to the guests.

Haddock entered through the back door. Irma was in the kitchen, cutting sandwiches and putting them on a large platter. She looked up in surprise as Haddock stormed past without a word.

Avoiding the dining room where he could hear quiet conversation, he climbed the stairs to his bed chamber and collapsed on the bed. There was a jolt on the mattress and he felt a wet nose nudge the palm of his hand.

Snowy whimpered, wagging his tail when the Captain looked up at him.

"Snowy, old boy," Haddock murmured, turning onto his side and letting Tintin's dog curl up against his chest. He stroked the soft, tight curls and Snowy put his head down on his paws, eyes large and sad.

"I know, boy. I miss him too. So much… Don't you worry. Old Archie will look after you from now on."

"Master Haddock, is that you?" Nestor's voice called from the stairs.

Sitting up and dragging a hand over his face and beard, Haddock got up and went to the door, opening it ajar. "Aye, it's me. Tell the others I'll be down soon."

"Yes, sir. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" he lied.

Closing the door, he set about changing into dry clothing, then went downstairs with Snowy to find Calculus. With a calming breath, he smoothed down his tie and shirt, and entered the room, trying to appear relaxed.

Calculus was standing in a corner, nursing a sherry as he conversed with Bianca Castafiore. Chang was sitting alone and glanced up when the Captain entered. Avoiding his gaze, Haddock went to the table and poured a large drink from the decanter.

Chang got up and approached him. "Captain Haddock, there is something I want to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked, tossing back a soothing whisky.

Chang glanced around and then lowered his voice. "Tintin sent me a letter only a week ago. He told me a secret."

Haddock stiffened and grabbed Chang's upper arm harder than intended. "What secret?"

Chang looked pointedly at the older man's hand and Haddock quickly let go. The Chinese lad smoothed down the green sleeve, too polite and good natured to be annoyed.

"He told me how happy he was. He had made a discovery greater than treasure."

Haddock listened keenly, as if learning a message sent from beyond the grave.

Chang smiled fondly. "Love. He told me he was in love."

Haddock's heart sank and grief wrestled with fury like two beasts caught in a trap. When he tried to speak, his voice was little more than air. "With you?"

Chang frowned deeply. "No, Captain. With _you_."

Haddock paled and his hand began to shake around the crystal cut glass. The blow that Chang had struck left him hollow. He should have felt overjoyed, filled up with pure and utter happiness. But how could he when his lad was gone? He was left feeling a guilty old fool for misjudging Tintin's friendship with Chang.

The professor excused himself and came over to where Haddock stood.

"Why did you run off in such a foolhardy manner?" the Professor muttered sternly, drawing attention. Chang excused himself.

Calculus's manner quickly softened. "Captain, I was very worried."

"I needed to be alone," Haddock answered, pouring another drink and tipping it urgently down his throat.

"I understand." Calculus said reassuringly. "You were fond of him. It's hard for me too, but together we will get through this."

Haddock poured another drink. The alcohol was starting to make his limbs fuzzy, but he was nowhere near drunk enough yet for this conversation.

"I just cannot believe it happened," Calculus added, staring into his own drink. "I keep expecting him to walk through the door."

At that moment, a heavy knocking on the front door echoed through the entrance hall.

The guests turned their heads.

"The thunder's getting up," Calculus said.

The Captain shook his head. "Who could that be?"

"A latecomer from the funeral, sir?" suggested Nestor.

"No. Everyone is here." Dread momentarily crept up Haddock's spine as he followed Nestor into the foyer. For some reason, the butler hesitated and stopped at the far end of the carpet runner. He stared at the sturdy oak door.

"What's wrong?" Haddock demanded, glancing between Nestor and the entrance. The pounding came again, rattling the wood within it's frame.

Snowy leaned against Haddock's leg and whined.

"Nothing. Sorry, sir" Nestor replied, going to the door.

"I hate storms," Chang said, suddenly appearing with the others at the Captain's side.

Ordinarily, Haddock enjoyed a good storm. He found it exciting to watch the turbulent weather outside the windows of Marlinspike Hall overpowering the countryside. Or the exhilaration of steering a ship through her wild clutches. But he didn't like this one. Not tonight. Nature was angry. He could sense it.

"Aye, lad," he said softly. "I know the feeling."

Nestor raised the latch from its housings and opened the door to reveal a rain soaked figure, shoulders and head slumped forward as he leaned one arm against the door frame. Lightening ripped the sky, lighting up the young man. His brown jacket and plus fours were caked in mud. His tuft of ginger hair hung in front of him, dripping water. And a red rose dangled in his limp hand. He raised his deathly white face and Irma screamed.

"Thundering typhoons," Haddock uttered, wide eyed. His heart thumped wildly under his ribs as he stared at the impossible apparition in the doorway.

"Jiang shi," a shocked Chang whispered in Chinese, and then, "zombie…"

_It can't be._

Haddock swallowed. "Tintin?"

"Captain," his beloved Tintin breathed, his voice eerily calm. "Captain, what have you done?"


End file.
